The Hunger Games Prim is playing
by Carnvine
Summary: What if Katniss decided to run from District 12? Who would volunteer for Prim? Rated T because it's the Hunger Games.
1. Intro from author

Okay, so I'm not quite sure how to post a story or anything like that so this is kind of a little chapter experiment. I will later post my proper story on the next chapter (hopefully). Rated T just because it's the Hunger Games :)


	2. Katniss is Gone

I felt the pure warmth of my mother's grasp around my thin, frail body as I awoke, quite gladly, from my dreams in which I wish to think no more of. For a small moment, I was at peace. My mind, thinking little less than of my mother, curling my body in shape with her own. But then I remembered. Of course, how could I forget? Today was the reaping. Today was the 74th Hunger Games. I untwined my mother's fingers from my waist and moved, quietly, over to my sister's bed. Still half asleep, I reach out to hold onto her. I find instead, her old sheet, stained with the years of poverty beneath it. My pulse dropped. Where was she? Katniss, my older sister was my only real refugee. Without her I was nothing. No one. No, wait. I was over thinking this; the most probable reasoning was that she had to clear her mind from the horrid Capitol. '_She's gone to hunt'_, I told myself. Somehow knowing it wasn't true in the slightest. I hadn't thought much of it last night. She would sometimes comes home after my mother and I had gone to sleep, but never _this_ late. I checked my father's old pocket watch- Katniss and my mother had always wanted to sell it for something more... Useful. I, however, couldn't let go that easily. I had never really known my father as well as Katniss did. I was always more of my 'mother's girl'. Katniss, on the other hand, was forever learning his ways of hunting, archery and survival while I leaned towards my mother's hand of healing. This pocket watch was the only thing _I _had to remember him by. Katniss had his skills. Mother had her ring. And I? I had this.

As I ran my pale white fingers down the rough bed linen, I thought of Katniss' 'goodbye' to me yesterday. It seemed she would never see me again. It seemed she never wanted to let go. That was the moment that proved to me that Katniss was gone. At this point, I had never wanted more than to rebel. The Capitol had made her do this. And I would bring them down so that every child would be safe. Every family, content with their own. District 12 would be free. This, however, was just little more than a dream; and in this time, dreams were just that. The most I could possibly do for my big sister was to sit, wait and think of nothing else but her safety.

Hours passed until I heard my mother awaking behind me. I would keep the disappearance of Katniss a secret. Before now I have never thought of her during the reaping. Only of those who face certain death. How must it feel to watch your own child ripped from the grasp of your hands to compete in an inhumane game? For the first time in my life, I lied to my mother. Her face was covered by the sheets that lay beside her, rumpled up in a small ball- she never did sleep well on the day of the reaping. 'Where's Katniss?', she said with a slight sharpness to her tone.

'She's just out hunting in the woods, Mum. Don't worry. She said to meet her back home after the reaping', I said in a calm tone.

'Hmm', she said as her bony body crawled out of the adjacent bed to stalk off to the outside bathroom. I followed her, picking up my mother's hair comb on the way. My favourite part of the day was always when I got to play with mother's hair. Today of course was quite the opposite of fun. A simple braid down the back of her back was all that I was ever aloud to do. 'A day for celebration' the people from the Capitol would say.

How wrong they were.


	3. The Reaping

After dressing myself in my best clothes, I attempted to push Katniss from my mind- failing quite quickly. At least she is safe from the Capitol. I see my mother coming out from the bathroom outside, looking quite more presentable. She wore a maroon dress with small cuttings of velvet around and bearing a violet lace hung around her small hips. She looked positively beautiful. I, on the other hand, wore my sister's old reaping clothes. A huge white shirt dragged down to my knee caps, hidden by a light blue shirt made of a thick bubbly material. My mother had tried to tuck in the bottom of my shirt many a times yet no matter how many slides she can fit in there, I am forced to hide it every few minutes. I've never fit into my sister's old clothes, she was always a bigger (or should I say, normal) fit than me. She carries long, strong arms and tall legs that are a result of her years hunting, or you could say training, with my father. With my mother, I was never the one to carry the injured when we healed them or anything- the local district miners help with that. But now was not the time to be reminiscing. We lay out the strawberries and good bread that Katniss had bought early from the Hobb the morning before- the baker did always take a shine to her and I. Hopefully, we'll be home to enjoy them.

Hopefully.

On the way to the District Square, I am constantly looking around for any sign of Katniss. She isn't exactly difficult to miss; especially on the day of the reaping. Yet, no matter how intently I search for her, I see no sign of her signature braid, running from the tips of her head to her right shoulder. Always the right. I wonder if she had it in her to have that certain hairstyle- I was always the one to do it on the days of the reaping. That's the thing I miss most; silly little times between me and her. Of course, I had to stop reminiscing the past.

Once we get to the Square, it is quite unlike the normal appearance. The place is crawling with Peacekeepers- those who have been trained by the Capitol. Many are from a higher rank District than our own, such as 2. Citizens from the Capitol see it as a worthless career; only those who are trained to 'handle' us and have nothing better to do with their time, are chosen. Nearly every Peacekeeper I know is the same; lazy and too arrogant to see the place where our children grow old. All of them do, however, manage to keep an eye on us. The only 'rule-breakers' around here that I know of is Katniss, Gale and the sellers/buyers from the Hobb, and they all managed to escape the clutches of the Peacekeepers. Although, I myself cannot deny that there is at least one 'decent' Peacekeeper that hides amongst District 12's fences- Darius. He had never told of Katniss' hunting outside of 12's boarders. In fact, he was one of her regular customers. But I couldn't think of Katniss. Not now. I had myself to think of.

Metal barriers enclosed each age group from the others, allowing no soothing hands to hold through the torture the next few minutes would bring. I was forced to leave my mother as I joined my age group of just 12 years. This was my first reaping, and I was hoping it wouldn't be my last. Innocent children aged from 12 to 18 filed into their selected slots, silently praying in their heads for freedom for another year. How I envied those who were much older and stronger than me; if I were chosen, the Cornucopia would surely bring my end. I notice Effie on the corner of the stage, sat between what looked like a very nervous, plump mayor and an extremely drunk Haymitch.

Haymitch was the winner (or victor as the Capitol calls them) of the 50th Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell. Every 25 years, a twist is put into the game- the first Quell, people from each District had to vote for who would compete in the Games and the second was with 100% more tributes, resulting in 48 competitors. I would have to put my name forward for the third Quell, something I am dreading at the very thought of it. No one knows what twist the gamemakers will have done- the answer is randomly picked from a series of cards, each one worst than the last. Next year, will be my worst. Haymitch was, this year, looking his worst- he was dressed in what seemed to be a pair of shabby worn-out jeans and an extremely loose shirt that hung from one side of his fattened waist. His hair had grown as though it had a mind of its own, hanging to his elbows.

We all watched as Effie Trinket made her way to the middle of the metal plated stage. In every District there was a Justice Building; the place where medals were awarded by the mayor, funerals were held and, most importantly, where the newly made tributes would be held until their eventful journey to the Capitol. She stood in front of the brass microphone and spoke with her dreadful high pitched Capitol accent, 'Welcome, welcome! And happy Hunger Games!' She was our District hostess as you may call it. Effie would travel and 'look after' 12's tributes until they're put into the arena. You can easily tell from the sharpness in her voice that she was once again unhappy about being put with such a low District as 12. To the Capitol, we were the laughing stock of all the others. Of each Hunger Games, 12 has only had two victors- one female, whom I cannot remember the name of or the year she won, and Haymitch. Although, now Haymitch is the only one left as the female died from what I presume was little to do with illness. It is tradition that each year, the previous victors help to prepare the tributes for their time in the arena. It is their job to lock in sponsors for tributes for the arena, allowing them more time and chances to survive. Even if I was picked and became a victor, I wouldn't have the strength to train innocent children before sending them off to their deaths- I think that alone, would kill me.

Effie is joined by our mayor and both introduce this new Hunger Games and what joy it brings to us and the Capitol. Everyone knows that the mayor has to say these things; if he didn't, his head would be off before you could say Hunger Games. They roll a short film about the rebellion and how the Capitol destroyed 13 and how the Hunger Games is here to remind us of the Capitol's strength over us. I remember the film as I have been in the stands with my mother holding me protectively. Everyone had to attend- the only time that can be excused is if you are on death's door. As my first Hunger Games, I had never really understood how it felt to stand with all the other children by my sides, waiting, wishing for someone else's name to be pulled out. I now understand.

'Ladies first!' Effie calls out in her annoying voice. I close my eyes, trying to think of Katniss safe and sound up in a tree with half a rabbit in one hand, her bow in the other. It calms me. I return just in time to hear the name of the female tribute. It takes me a while for it to set in. My wishes were not heard. The name?

It's Primrose Everdeen.


End file.
